Yaarigu Helabedi ( Translated: Don't tell anyone)

The word vacation always invokes a feeling of uninterrupted blissful relaxation in the midst of nature.  I used to be under the same illusion until I was rudely woken up to find my vacation plans hijacked and redefined.  Well, read this piece and be forewarned about potential vacation plan hijackers in family.

The hijack took place after my 10^th standard examination.  After a gruelling year I was craving for ‘peace and tranquility’ (had just finished ‘Daffodils’ of Wordsworth).  My father and I planned a trip to Malnad.  But my mother thought otherwise and wanted us to atone for our sins by taking a temple tour.  I dreaded this for my own reasons.  The reason was that I had mixed up south Indian and north Indian styles of architecture in the exam.  Hence I thought it was humane enough not to be reminded of it at every temple that I was going to visit.  Finally we won the battle.  So preparations were under way. I was looking forward to catch some exotic birds that were mentioned in Salim Ali’s book.  I bought a new binocular.  But disaster struck soon. 

My mother had called her family to tell them about the trip. The next thing I knew my plans were hijacked, redefined to mean “temple tour” for us and them.  My father and I were left dumbstruck as if hit by a thunder (note, not lightening).  Why thunder? A few notes on my mother’s family.

They are a boisterous family of six sisters, two brothers and we cousins number 13.  Each member is of a different mould and character.  They love to disagree on things ranging from the right color of rasam powder to the best psychiatrist they have visited! They take it upon themselves to give free advice, especially when not asked. Hence the thunder and not lightning!

My father resigned to his fate.  But being the diehard fighter, I tried to register my feeble protest. At once everyone descended upon me saying I was hurting their religious sentiments! Finally the tour bus was ascended by my gleeful mother and a disgruntled pair - me and my father. 

The bus journey was eventful in more than one ways.  My cousin Bheema loves to tuck in food 24X7.  But his poor stomach protested and finally gave up on the bus. The result was a pungent odor enveloped the entire a/c bus. To top it all the boisterous family was in its element. I could see my hope for peace and tranquility slipping away.  I appealed to god and promised to atone for my sins if only he granted me mukthi from the odor.  Just when I thought I would faint from the odor, the bus stopped in front of the Shringeri temple. 

The temple is a beautiful piece of architecture of Chalukyan style.  But for me it was the ghost of my exam! To add fuel to the fire my uncle the history professor (who is offended by my poor knowledge of history) asked, “What are the features of this temple’s architecture?”  I groaned aloud and made some noises about a disgruntled stomach. This was effective and sent my uncle hurrying away. 

Next we entered the temple to pay our respects. I thanked God for rescuing me from the odor by doing the pradakshinas twenty five times (goaded by my mother) and scalded my feet.  After satisfying their religious sentiments the whole family sat down for lunch. I saw this as my chance for some peace and tranquility.  I picked up my binocular and walked over to the kalyani. Even though I could not do justice to Salim Ali there was a chance to do justice to the beautiful fish in kalyani, I stood on the top most step of the Kalyani and peered into the clear water. Little did I know what was to happen next. One moment I was on the top step and the next I found myself on the step near the water. I suspected that it was a lucky day for an orthopedic as he would would soon have a patient.  I had broken a bone. How did this happen?

My youngest cousin who could be a bus, a truck or a bull all at the same time suffered from role conflict.  That fateful day he decided he would be a bull minus the horns.  He immediately assumed the role and saw my posterior as a potential target. So, he had sent me scuttling in the air and I had landed on all fours.

But still it turned out to be the best vacation. Guess why? I could recoup in the peace and tranquility of my house with ‘Daffodils’ for company.  I was away from the boisterous family and the ghost of my exam mix up (in the form of temples). I had also learnt an important lesson – do not tell anyone of your vacation plans least of all the family if it is anywhere like mine.

So next time you make vacation plans ‘Yaarigu Helabedi’.